The Way and the Light
by Avian Obscurities
Summary: WIP. A night elf hunter, journeying alone through Outlands, ends up in Shattrath City. Warily, she accepts the help of a draenei paladin as she tries to find her place in the new world.
1. Chapter 1

Hey there. This is the beginnings of something I've had tossing around in my head for awhile and decided to actually sit down and write out. I've decided to share it with people in the hopes that putting myself out there will inspire me to continue it.

This is very much a Work in Progress. Chapters are apt to be edited and changed without notice. Warcraft belongs to Blizzard, no argument there. Characters in this story, with the exception of cameo's by NPC's, are imaginary and are not based on any actual player characters. Any resemblance in names, races, and classes is purely coincidental. I came up with most names based on random syllables in my head, but I apologize for any duplicates, since there's only so many possible combinations in the English language.

Please don't tell my guild I'm bumming around the world of fanfiction; they'll never let me live it down. .And if any of my guild finds it by their own efforts, well then, we'll just have to share each other's secret won't we? ;)

* * *

**1**

Despite the fog, she could feel the air get dryer as she approached the top of the pass leading out of the great swamp. The cool morning mists became a chill wind as her mount, sensing the end of the climb, broke into a run. She let him, and for a few moments the only noise she could hear in the early quiet was the grunting of her horse and the muffled drumming of his hooves on the road.

They reached the summit and she let him slow to a stop. It was rather anticlimactic, as any impressive views from the top had been cut down to about five yards in any direction. Despite this, she turned in her saddle and squinted her glowing eyes to peer into the murk behind her and let out a clipped whistle.

After a moment, a section of fog peeled itself away and trotted toward her. The ghostly effect was spoiled when the shape sat down to chew energetically at an offending spot on its hindquarters.

She waited until the wolf had gotten up, shaken the dew from his long grey fur, and approached the horse before she dug around in her saddlebag. His ears perked at this familiar sight and he sat down, tongue lolling expectantly.

"Good boy, not much out there but fungus, is there?" She smiled as she tossed him a piece of dried meat. "No worries, there will be better hunting soon."

She left him worrying at his tough morning snack and walked the horse a few yards further down the road, hoping that the mists were clearer around the bend ahead. She stopped when she heard the heavy echo of another rider approaching from somewhere in the murk ahead. Long ears straining, she was able to pick up a pattern as it approached. _One two, one two, one_...

She stiffened, heart in her throat. _Bipedal mount_…. It was the sound of heavy leathery feet, not the metallic clank of a Gnomish mechanostrider. She whistled for her pet again, this time more urgently. _Horde_.

She turned and saw the wolf sniffling around in the dust for any missed scraps. "Sitka! Come!" she snapped, and he wheeled and trotted to her without hesitation. With nowhere to go in the barren pass, all she could do was unsling her bow and wait, hoping that her readiness would deter any trouble.

As the footfalls got louder, a strange silhouette emerged from the fog. Bouncy yet fast, with a long swaying tail. It was a raptor, probably carrying a troll. She allowed herself to relax, but only slightly. In her experience, a lone troll rarely attacked without good reason. But the mount was no guarantee on the identity of the rider, she reminded herself sternly, since many races had forgone traditional mounts in recent times. Her own choice of mount attested to this fact (although most other night elves scoffed at her for her choice). And for that matter, the Horde rider could still decide to attack a solitary hunter, whether she was prepared or not. This wasn't Azeroth; other adventurers and explorers were few and far between, and help wasn't about to pop up from behind a bush or come running at her yells. Outland was a brave new world of lawlessness and injustice.

The rider was finally close enough to see, and it was in fact a troll. A dark shape loping next to his raptor proved him to be a hunter as well. She tightened her grip on the bow sitting conspicuously on her lap and her horse whinnied nervously, either from sensing his rider's tension or from the close proximity of a large predator.

The troll, however, didn't even slow down. As he passed her, he nodded and gave a jaunty wave of his hand. She blinked in confusion, and watched as his pet, a black worg, ran up and had a sniffing diplomatic parley with her own pet. The rider disappeared into the fog back down the road to the marshlands she had just left, with the worg following his master's whistle soon after.

Sitka went back to digging for fleas on his rump, unshaken by the exchange. His master was a bit more nonplussed. Such a simple interaction with the enemy was almost unprecedented in her experience, in this world or the last. She reflected on it for a minute before laughing out loud, startling her already nervous horse.

"Brave new world, indeed.…" she muttered to herself and clicked her mount back into a walk.

* * *

It had been almost a month since Thara had crossed the portal. That day had been steeped in confusion and fear, but she remembered it with horrible clarity, and doubtless would for the rest of her life.

She had rarely visited the red vistas of the Blasted Lands before then, preferring the more well-trod corners of the world, but that day it seemed like the Portal was some great vortex that had pulled the entirety of civilization to its doorstep. Armies and warriors of all races milled about in shell-shocked confusion, occasionally pulling together to fight off some minor demon that tore through the gateway. Thunder cracked almost constantly overhead, drowning out the noise of fighting and armor clanking, of bellowed orders and the screams of horses and wolves alike. Enemies and heroes from the entire world stood shoulder to shoulder, but all gazes were focused on the great glimmering gateway of stone.

There was a lull in the fighting, and a bloodied orc warrior yelled from the top of the ramp down to where she and a knot of other adventurers stood waiting. Before she knew it, they were being shuffled up the ramp by a mixed group of defenders, all exhausted and filthy enough that she could barely tell Alliance from Horde. The orc yelled some orders in the Horde tongue, which was repeated in Common by a young human commander next to him.

"We have secured the portal, but only for now. All travelers who wish to go through must do so immediately!"

Thara hesitated, overwhelmed by the violence and confusion. Sitka crouched almost on top of her feet, whining and trying to bury his face in her boot. It was all too much, too real, unlike anything she had ever experienced, and it was only the beginning of the new world.

She was about to take a step back when she turned and met the eyes of the adventurer next to her. She didn't even flinch when she realized it was a Forsaken, a race she normally shunned and despised. But she did pause when she saw the look on the warlock's face. Despite the waxy skin and already-pallid appearance, it matched hers exactly.

Thara smiled at the woman despite herself. The undead paused, then matched it with a broken grin of her own. Without a word, Thara bent down, gathered up the quivering Sitka into her arms, and went through the Portal.

* * *

As she rode through the pass, Thara reflected on that day. The stench and horror of Hellfire Peninsula seemed even more unreal in the quiet morning mist. The fog began to thin as the sun climbed higher, until by midmorning only the bends in the road obscured her vision.

She came to the end of the pass and found herself looking out at a wide valley of the Terrokar Forest. The fog still clung low, so it looked like she stood on the shore of a vast silver sea. Tall, exotic pines climbed above the mist, reminding her of cypress in a swamp, but on an even vaster scale. Above the trees hung a morning-blue sky that could have been like any other from home, except for the eerie ribbons of light cutting through.

Sitka sniffed the air cautiously, then trotted ahead. The road rounded yet another bend before finally descending into the valley. Enjoying the feeling of the sun, Thara let her horse amble along after the wolf. When they rounded the corner, though, she reined in the horse in surprise and shock.

Out in the valley, far closer than she had been expecting, an alien metropolis rose above the fog. Vast walls and ancient buildings stood mired in jungle, broken but strong. Graceful terraces and bridges layered the city and climbed up the mountainside behind it. Everything was made of warm sandstone, embedded sporadically with large crystals, like jewels in a crown. Strange carvings across the surfaces of the buildings were made even more indecipherable by the accumulated weathering of wind and water. Moving shadows cast by drifting clouds or swaying branches across the complex walls made the whole city seem twistingly alive. In the center of it all, a great structure rose above the rest, not quite a dome but not quite anything else familiar either. From the center of this building shot a beam of spiraling light that didn't fade or waver until it disappeared into the heavens above.

Thara sat and gazed at the city in awe. She had heard stories from other explorers, even locals, describing her destination, but nothing had prepared her for what she was now seeing.

A snort from her horse brought her back to her senses. Beautiful or not, it was just a city, and right now there were more important issues than sightseeing. She was tired, her horse was tired, and Sitka was in dire need of something besides that week-old jerky she had been feeding him, no better than boot leather. Even so, her gaze didn't waver as she rode down the hill toward Shattrath City.


	2. Chapter 2

More added, 8-28-07

* * *

**2**

The fog had burned off completely by the time Thara reached the edge of Shattrath. The dirt road ended abruptly in a wide sandstone bridge that arced into the heart of the city. Thara slowed her mount as they approached the tall pillars anchoring the bridge. Sitka dashed back and forth, smelling the tracks of travelers and unseen discoveries in the brush. By contrast, Thara focused on the guards posted to either side of the bridge, and her gaze did not waver as she approached.

They were draenei. In all her time in Outlands, she had encountered members of the race only twice, but she would have identified these two in a heartbeat even if they hadn't been perched atop massive elekk mounts. Both women turned their luminescent gazes on Thara but remained silent. Thara avoided staring at their eyes, so creepily similar to her own. A superficial observation might find other similarities between the races, actually. But the skin tones were all wrong, and what from a distance looked like oddly shaped ears turned out to be delicate horns curving back along the skull. Not to mention the fact that the long legs draped down the sides of their mounts ended in sharp ebony hooves.

Thara rode by without stopping, nodding only a cursory greeting. The women watched her curiously before turning back to face the forest.

Thara found the draenei females both beautiful and strange. She chalked up her nervousness around them to the latent xenophobia inherent in her own race and culture. It frustrated her still to have such feelings pop up, considering how long she had worked to overcome her ingrained prejudices and integrate with mainstream Alliance society. But the draenei were a whole new level of unknown, and in the absence of other information, instinct overran logic. Despite this, Thara had met some draenei females on her journey out of the Hellfire Peninsula and used the encounter as an opportunity to understand the race.

But the males….

Thara suppressed a shudder. She was relatively young and hadn't fought in the early wars, but she had grown up hearing horror stories of the mighty and demonic eredar. To see the large draenei males walking around was almost like a childhood monster brought to life. So far she had mostly seen them from afar, and when she met one face to face while on the road she had kept their exchange brief.

_But Shattrath was built by them_, she reminded herself with self-deprecating frown as her horse reached the apex of the bridge. _I'm bound to run into them sooner rather than later_.

She heard a muffled cough behind her and whipped around in her saddle, her instinct for irony half expecting to find a draenei man standing there, frowning at her as if she had been thinking out loud. She shook the idea from her head as she peered into the shadow of the bridge wall.

A man did stand there, but he was comfortingly human. Thara relaxed and turned her horse to face him. Sitka barked and ran up to him as if to verify his identity, but more likely to sniff his pockets scraps to beg off him.

"Sitka!" Thara snapped as she realized this. The man was haggard and thin and his clothes were frayed. _Any food he has does not need to go into your bottomless gullet_, she thought angrily, but did not dare say it out loud it in front of him. Instead, she raised her hand in greeting. "I apologize, good sir, but he seems to have lost his manners on the road." Sitka ran back to her mount with his tail wagging, but soon grew sullen as he caught his master's expression.

The man gave another spasmatic cough. When it didn't stop, Thara realized he was laughing. " 'S no trouble, Huntress. He shows more manners than most that come through here." He chuckled again and peered up at her. "New to Shattrath, are you?"

Thara nodded. "Yes, we just crossed the pass from Zangarmarsh early this morning. This is the furthest south I've been since crossing the portal."

The man nodded to himself, then frowned. "If you were in the 'Marsh, why not just take the flight to the city from Telredor? You would have saved yourself a lot of time, and risk."

"Oh, yes, well…." She forced herself to not turn to look at the draenei peacekeepers again. Telredor, the strange mushroom city perched in the canopy of the marsh, was run entirely by local draenei. She had ridden past it, but couldn't bring herself to stop. "Well, it's so hard to find good horses in Outlands, I've found, so I couldn't just leave mine behind, and Sitka always gets very squirmy on long flights."

The man nodded but eyed her suspiciously. When Thara didn't venture any more, he turned to point into the city. "Well if you're new here, you'd better introduce yourself to Archmage Khadgar. He likes to hear news from anyone coming in from the Old World, Horde or Alliance. He should be somewhere along the terrace, if the Sha'tar aren't doing drills all the hell over it."

Thara almost asked who the Sha'tar were, but the morning was getting late, so she decided to let it pass for the moment. "Thank you, I shall."

The man smiled, and clapped a hand to her horse's shoulder. "Light be with you on your journey." Thara wished him the same in Darnassian, then turned to continue down the bridge.

She didn't see any other travelers on the bridge, but wafts of camp smoke and cooking breakfasts drifted on the breeze. As the smells increased, Sitka started to whine, but she decided to take the nameless man's advice and find the Archmage before settling in at an inn. She hoped that whatever news she brought from Azeroth would be rewarded with information about this enigmatic city.

The bridge ended in a broad terrace, circling the high central structure in the center of the city and stretching off out of sight to both sides. It was wide enough for elekk riders to ride comfortably six-abreast, but currently it was empty. Thara walked her mount across it slowly, peering around as if Khadgar himself would appear suddenly, having been expecting her arrival. But things were never so easy, and with a sigh, she resigned herself to looking for him the hard way.

As she slowly circled the city, she began to hear the clash of weapons and armor through the morning stillness. It was rhythmic and steady, and punctuated by barked shouts that could only be commands. With no other option immediately apparent, she rode toward the commotion.

She turned around a bend and saw a group of soldiers sparring together in an orderly grid. Some manner of sergeant walked up and down the lines, calling out orders, commands, and encouragement. She admired the fluidity of their motions, and the dazzling morning light on their clean armor and shining weapons, but froze as the realization hit her. _They're _all_ draenei…._

She had yet to see so many together at one time, and certainly not all fully-armored warriors. Her horse shifted uncomfortably under Thara's suddenly stiff posture, and Sitka—as if sensing his master's trepidation—twined nervously between her mount's legs.

Fear rising, Thara turned to go, but then saw another small group of men standing in the shadows of the central structure. Two were more male draenei, but far more impressively armored than the soldiers doing their drills on the terrace. The third was an older human, with a plain face and a grey beard, who didn't seem particularly remarkable in himself. His robes, however, were unmistakably of the highest sorcerous orders. Thara smiled to herself. _If anyone here is an archmage, it's that guy_. Khadgar was watching the fighters and nodding at something one of his companions was saying. None of them had turned enough to see Thara sitting on her horse in the middle of the empty flagstones; even so, she was beginning to feel self-conscious and exposed. After a quick series of calming breaths, she started off toward the Archmage—and the two draenei he was with—at a walk, whistling sharply to Sitka to keep him close at heel.

* * *

"They're young, Harbinger. Younger than the last group." 

Harbinger Argoman nodded, thin lipped, as he watched the sparring neophytes. "You've said that about the last two squads, Archmage."

"Well, then, don't you start to see a disturbing trend?"

"I believe you said that last time as well."

Archmage Khadgar frowned deeper and folded his arms, but turned to watch the recruits instead of responding. Vindicator Jastian, standing slightly behind both of them, said nothing, knowing better than to get involved. The same argument that was now building between Harbinger Argoman and the Archmage had been repeated in different forms over and over again for the last two weeks.

"You take teenagers from the orphanage, give them a sword, some training, and a handful of blessings, then send them off to wander confused and unprepared though the backwaters of Nagrand…."

"All due respect, sir, but our races' definitions of 'teenager' are quite diff—"

"Emotionally there is no difference! They are young and scared and useless against the amassed force of the Legion!"

The Archmage's voice was slowly rising in volume. Some of the neophytes actually looked their way briefly. Argoman continued to stare forward. Jastian edged a little closer to the wall behind him.

"What would you have me do, Archmage?" As Khadgar's voice got louder, Harbinger Argoman's voice got steadier and deeper, but the anger was the same.

"Well if you're going to ship them off to battle, at least send them to the front lines, where they can have further training with the forces amassed there!"

"And ignore the threat the Legion poses right at our backdoor?" The Harbinger finally turned his gaze, bright with anger, toward the Archmage. "As much as we, and I, wish to protect the lives of those of both our worlds, the Sha'tar's first obligation is to protect Shattrath, and the defenseless masses who have found shelter under our care. Masses who, I'm sure I don't have to remind you, grow daily as more come in from Azeroth."

Jastian sighed to himself, knowing the argument was drawing to a close. Their verbal sparring of logic and duty never got past this point. He looked around the terrace, avoiding making eye contact with either of his superiors. It was only then that he noticed the rider watching the neophytes and eyeing the Archmage suspiciously. He peered closer and was surprised to see that it was a night elf riding the horse, not a human, which he had come to associate with the mounts. He had met few night elves in Shattrath since the portal had been opened, and definitely none that did anything so blatant to deviate from their cultural norm. He was instantly intrigued.

She appeared to make a decision and rode toward him and his superiors, who were now back to discussing the current progress of the war in grim tones. He cleared his throat and stood a bit straighter. When they turned to look at him, he gestured toward the elf with his chin.

They stopped their conversation and turned to watch her approach. The huntress—for he now saw her hunting pet, a wolf, trotting close behind—dismounted a few meters away, and walked up on foot. She stopped before the Archmage and dipped into a graceful bow.

"Archmage Khadgar? Please excuse me for interrupting."

"Not at all, child! Please, what can we do for you?" Jastian snorted to himself at the Archmage's use of "child." From what he had heard, the elves were just as long-lived as his own kind, and it was quite possible that this young woman was two or three times Khadgar's own age, if not more. The Archmage undoubtedly knew this, and was perhaps referring to her being young by her cultural standard.

Now that she was closer, he was able to take in more details. His first glance took in her long ears and pale skin, but his prediction that this was an elf outside the mold seemed more and more correct the more he saw. Her horse's armor bore the mark of Stormwind, and her own gear had the sturdy look of dwarven craftsmanship, rather than the delicate styles that he had seen from elven craftspeople. She wasn't wearing a headpiece, and he could see that her hair had the look of style gone feral. The elves he had met—druids, mostly—tended to wear their hair simple and straight, pulled back, or plaited neatly in a single braid. Hers was full and loose, cascading around her face like the mane of a great cat, and of such a deep purple it was almost black. A few wisps had been braided with feathers and beads, lending spots of color to glint in the morning light. Her facial tattoos were limited to a single stripe bisecting each of her eyes at a perpendicular angle. When she closed her eyes, it looked like slitted irises continued to stare at him.

Her normal eyes, glowing so similarly to those of a draenei, flitted from the Archmage to Argoman and himself. She made eye contact with him, briefly, before jumping back to Khadgar. "Sir, I am Thara, previously of Stormwind, and I have been traveling Outland since the portal opened. I have just arrived in your city and was told to come and introduce myself."

"'My' city? Ha! Hear that?" Khadgar laughed and elbowed Argoman, who frowned back at him and rolled his eyes. "Perhaps this is sign of a popular mandate moving through the citizens!"

"Unlikely," was the Argoman's only response, which only made Khadgar laugh harder.

Thara looked back and forth between them, confused. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"No, no, Huntress, it's quite alright. Shattrath is an unusual city, for any world, and one difference between here and Azeroth is that there is no one central figure, or civic leadership. It's shared amongst a handful of different factions." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "And if I may be so blunt, one of the factions is simply 'anarchy.'" He grinned and leaned back. "I, I'm afraid, don't have even a sliver of that civic responsibility." Khadgar chuckled again and clapped the Harbinger—who had also finally conceded to a smile—on the shoulder. "May I introduce Harbinger Argoman, a military leader of the Sha'tar, which is, in essence, the main peacekeeping force in the city."

Argoman smiled and held out his hand. Shaking hands was a custom common to all races on Azeroth, and one that the draenei in Shattrath had only learned recently. Jastian found it to be a solid gesture of friendship and had picked it up quickly. Thus he was surprised when Thara glanced at the Harbinger's outstretched hand before nervously taking it in her own. She muttered a greeting, then dropped it quickly.

Khadgar didn't appear to notice and continued on. "And standing behind us here, very patiently, is Vindicator Jastian, also of the Sha'tar. I believe you would know him better as a paladin."

Jastian smiled gently then held out his hand. Again, she took it only tentatively. He held her long fingers and made eye contact with her, briefly, and smiled again. She visibly stiffened and looked away quickly. This time, he could feel her almost jerk her hand away.

Jastian frowned. He had heard that the night elves of Azeroth were reclusive and didn't interact with the other races much, to the point where many of the older generations even looked down on the others sharing their world with them. But Thara was young, and everything about her pointed to someone who didn't care what her elders thought and fraternized with the rest of the world as she chose. He thought for a second, then realized it wasn't disdain or snobbery he saw in her reactions, but fear. He frowned deeper as he wondered why.


	3. Chapter 3

Ohai. Sorry about the severe lack of update. It's not intentional, I promise. I've had a rough end to the year, compounded by gradschool. Anyway, it's my pre-New Year's resolution to work on writing more since I need more creative outlet in my life. I figured this was a good a place as any to start. It seems to be settling into a rather long-exposition format, sorry, so if you get impatient and wander away I'll understand. ;) For the rest of you, please to enjoy!

edit 1-21-07: I went through all my chapters and made some minor spot changes for errors, typos, sentence flow, etc. Trying to gear myself up into writing something new. Ive got lots in my head, trust me, its just spaced around a lot and I need to figure out what happens in between scenes.

* * *

**3**

As she talked with the Archmage, Thara had all of her energies focused on keeping calm and together, at least outwardly. Inside, her instincts were urging her to get away from the two draenei as fast as possible. Their shining eyes gazed on her with the same restrained power of a Stranglethorn panther at a kill she had stumbled upon by accident many years ago. The cat hadn't moved, just stared at her calmly for a full minute, every inch of him radiating raw power; power his gaze said he had just so happened to choose not to unleash upon her unwary self. She had backed away slowly, never taking her eyes off of his.

She saw that same confidence in the eyes of the two men, but this time she couldn't bring herself to meet their gaze at all.

Thara was surprised to learn that the subordinate with them was a paladin. She had heard, of course, that they were firm believers of the Light, but she had never really believed it. She was finding it hard to reconcile her disbeliefs with the proof standing in front of her.

_Although, they say our blood elf cousins have also started training paladins, but rather than working for the Light they bend it to their will._ She pursed her lips thoughtfully as she examined the Vindicator out of the corner of her eye.

He was tall, taller than her, something she rarely came across in men of the Alliance. His broad frame was further enhanced by the heavy armor he wore, which was surprisingly plain; the smooth plates were ornamented only with occasional colored shapes and inset metallic patterns. The little skin she could see was dark, dark even for a draenei. It was a deep, steely cobalt that put her in mind of a calm winter ocean under an overcast sky. His hair was pulled back into a thick, simple plait that fell down his back.

These details she observed and accepted readily, but it was his far more alien features that continued to unnerve her. A muscular tail swung lazily behind him, and his armored legs ended in heavy black hooves. If she squinted, she could almost imagine that a big blue tauren stood in front of her instead. But, unlike the draenei females, he had no horns to complete the image. His face was humanoid, deceptively familiar, until one saw the—for lack of a better word—_tendrils_ hanging off his chin and jaw. They put Thara in mind of something she might see on beached sea creatures, and even their careful arrangement and decorative rings couldn't shake the image from her head.

_Powerful. Other-worldly. Alien_. All these words came to mind when she examined the draenei, all of them words used to describe the eredar monsters from her childhood.

Thara eventually pulled her attention back to Archmage Khadgar. She realized with a jolt of embarrassment that he had been talking the entire time she was lost in her reverie. She racked her subconscious for what he had been talking about and came up with fragments of the history of Shattrath and descriptions of the various powers in the city. By the time she found the thread of the lecture, though, he was bringing it to a close.

"…And so everyone in the city lives together, not so much in peace, but in a kind of stasis. A limbo that comes from having nowhere else to go and being too tired to fight anymore." Khadgar sighed, then chuckled to himself. "Of course, the new adventurers coming to the city bring along a lot of old grudges, but A'dal keeps the troublemakers in check."

Thara smiled, but inwardly cursed. Who was A'dal? Was he—or she—an actual leader of the city? Some sort of peacekeeper above even the militia forces of the Sha'tar?

The Archmage sighed to himself and swept his gaze across the terrace. "Well my child, the mists have lifted, the morning drills are ending, so it won't be long now before the rest of the city is up as well. You've had a long journey, and the inns should be preparing breakfast by now. So please, go settle yourself in, and if you have further questions about the city you may find me in the temple later today."

Thara sighed with relief. Her growling stomach was almost loud enough to rival Sitka. "Thank you, sir, if you could just point me in—"

"Oh, no! No, child, I won't just wave you off like that," Khadgar interrupted, smiling. "You are tired, and the city is a lot larger and more complicated than it seems. You need a guide, and I'm sure Vindicator Jastian wouldn't mind helping to show you around."

Khadgar turned to face Jastian, who blinked in surprise. He recovered quickly and cleared his throat. "Oh, um, yes…I mean, if you have no further need of me for now, Harbinger…."

Jastian turned to Harbinger Argoman, who was still watching the end of the drills. He nodded without turning. "Yes, Vindicator. You may be excused for the morning, and I shall see you for the afternoon blessings on the rise."

Thara barely heard any of this. Her eyes had never left Jastian after the Archmage had said his name. She forced a grin, but was unobtrusively trying to take deep steadying breaths. _You have to do this, _she told herself._It's just a morning tour, and then he'll leave, and then the hardest part will be over and you can start seeing these men as people, not monsters_. Even so, her knuckles had gone white as they clenched the reins of her horse.

"Splendid!" cried Khadgar, and he held out his hand to shake hers one more time. "It has been lovely to meet you, Huntress Thara, and welcome again." He clapped Jastian on the shoulder as he stepped forward to stand next to Thara. "You kids have a good time."

Thara laughed weakly and risked a glance at Jastian. Once the Archmage had turned away, he met her gaze and, with a tired smile, rolled his eyes. Thara was surprised when this made her laugh again, a little harder.

She tried not to flinch when he held out his hand. "May I take your horse, Huntress?" His voice startled her, deep and smooth and very calm. She found herself handing him the reins. He gripped them properly and quickly had her horse turned around. "We'll head to Lower City first, miss. The largest stables are there, and then we can find lodging for yourself." He headed off at an easy walk, his footsteps echoing almost comically with the hooves of the horse. With another breath and final glance at the retreating back of the Archmage, she set off to walk beside him, Sitka close behind.

They walked in silence for the first few minutes, and Thara got a good look at the awakening city around her. The familiar forms of adventurers, both Horde and Alliance, were wandering across the terrace. She had rubbed elbows with Horde before, but it was always other young adventurers in the tense, almost-neutrality of the goblin cities of Azeroth. It was bizarre to see a fully armored orc warrior carrying an axe bigger than Sitka standing calmly in the middle of the terrace, chewing his lip thoughtfully as he perused a map. They passed a flightmaster writing the day's destinations and fares on a chalkboard propped in front of his mounts, and it was only after they had passed him that she realized that he had both gryphons and windriders.

Jastian remained silent, but she saw him stealing glances at her out of the corner of her eye. Something about his manner told her he would remain silent all morning if she wished it, but she knew she would have to make a start at civility somewhere.

"So, umm…," she started, without looking at him. "You seem to be comfortable with the horse. I was under the impression your…people rode the elekk mounts preferably." She had started to say, "your kind," but realized at the last second that it sounded like something her elders would say.

Jastian nodded. "Yes, the elekks are strong, intelligent creatures and make excellent mounts. Some even fight in battle alongside us. I have one myself. But I am comfortable with many beasts; my father is a trader, and when I was young we made many trips to Nagrand. This was before the Legion started to really take a foothold in that land…." He trailed off for a second, and Thara glanced over at him. He stared forward, but his eyes had narrowed and dimmed in what was unmistakably anger. She felt a thrill of panic and forced herself to keep walking calmly and not tense up. But then he sighed, and shook his head sadly, and his eyes were calm once again. "Anyway, there is a creature there called a talbuk, and the people of the land have learned to tame them. I have had some experience with them, and they are not unlike horses in build and disposition. This way…."

He turned and headed down a ramp leading away from the terrace. She trotted to catch up. Despite her wariness of him—or perhaps because of it—she was intrigued to hear this tidbit of his past. "Did you grow up here? In Outlands?"

"Yes. I was born late during the exile from Argus, but my earliest memories are of Shattrath, and Outlands." Jastian nodded a greeting to a pair of guards flanking the bottom of the ramp. Thara followed him out into a wide, open-air corridor between the base of the terrace above them and the outer wall of the city. Buildings lined the sides, some built in the stone of the original city, and others obviously added much later. There were even newer, ramshackle constructions in various styles filling in the gaps along the walls, and any area too small to hold a full building sprouted a collection of tents.

But it wasn't the architecture that drew Thara's eye as they stopped at the bottom of the ramp. "Dear Elune!" she gasped, "All the people!"

People were everywhere she looked, members of every race she had ever met and quite a few she had never heard of before. There were adventurers wandering throughout, but the majority had the look of common-folk. A group of children of multiple races ran by giggling, chased by a baby elekk. People wandered in and out of the buildings, bartered and chatted in front of stalls, or just sat quietly in a corner and stared off into space. People in this last group were generally the shabbiest dressed, and despite their vacant stares they kept firm grips on their bags next to them.

"But…." She trailed off, at a loss for words. Jastian waited patiently, watching her. "Where did they all come from? And, why…?"

"Refugees. From all across Outlands. Native peoples, here since before the wars. Descendents of the soldiers who stayed to close the Portal the last time it was open. All of them retreating from the forces of the Legion."

Thara looked at him and again saw anger darkening his face. This time, though, she stood entranced. "To the citizens of Azeroth," he continued, voice deepening, "Outlands is a broken wasteland, dying shards of a once vibrant world. But there is still life here, and in most places it thrives. This is my home, the only one I have ever known, and over the course of my life I have seen the land and the people slowly die under the touch of the Legion. Many retreat to Shattrath because it is the only place left in the world they can go." He gazed back over the masses in front of them. "It's why I left my father and his caravan to come here and train under A'dal. I felt the call of the Light in my desire to protect the life and people of this world."

He stood silently for a moment, not meeting her stare. With a sigh, he clicked to the horse and headed off. Thara paused, then hurried after him.


	4. Chapter 4

Hello, Happy New Year! Thank you everyone who has given positive responses, I am very glad that people are enjoying my work. I apologize yet again for the time it takes for me to write new stuff, but it comes when it comes. I was hoping this installment would get a bit further than it did, but whatever; it's written and its decent so I share. At some point in the unforseeable future i might go back and condense chapters, but for now I'm just gonna put it out there when its a chunk of story.

Also I changed the rating down to T. After reading more stories on the site I realized thats pretty much the tone I can see myself in. If I get the nerve to make it more M I will change it back.

* * *

**4**

_Urg, I shouldn't have vented like that._

Jastian chided himself as he led the horse through the crowds. The woman was obviously wary of him enough as it was, and there was no reason for him to preach to every new person who came into the city.

_It's her attitude. Caution, and fear…, _he decided. _Makes me feel like I have to explain myself_. He shook his head sadly. _She seemed so different from others of her race, but maybe deep down that arrogance and xenophobia is still the same._

He could hear her following close behind him, and when he turned to check he saw her gazing around as she walked. The look of wonder and awe hadn't left her face. He half expected her to be stumbling along, like an ogling child, but despite her lack of attention she moved smoothly and quickly through the crowds and across the broken ground.

He stopped in front of the Lower City Inn, the largest in the city and frequent home to those with no specific ties to guilds or factions. She stopped beside him and looked up at the inn. She turned to him, mouth open to say something, but before she could Jastian interrupted.

"Huntress Thara…" he began, and when she didn't protest he continued. "You are new to the city, and perhaps overwhelmed. The Archmage charged me with helping you find your way, but it is apparent that are are…uncomfortable with my presence." She cast her eyes down at this, but didn't say anything. Jastian paused, then continued. "If you would like a guide from your own people, I have friends amongst the druids who would be happy to help, and I would gladly introduce you to them."

She stood quiet for a moment, watching her wolf investigate every smell within a three yard radius. Then she met his eyes, took a breath, and smiled. "Thank you, Vindicator, but…I apologize for my reactions. You are right that the city is overwhelming, but it will do me no good to hide from the unfamiliar. Besides, I can think of no better guide than someone who obviously has such a history with and love of this city."

Jastian blinked in surprise, and she looked down again, blushing. "I would like some time to settle in and get cleaned up…." She slapped the leather of her pants, creating a cloud of trail dust. "A trader's son such as yourself must know how tiring the road can be."

Jastian laughed at her demonstration, but also at her unexpected candor. "Indeed I do, Huntress. May I suggest you meet me for a late meal whenever you are ready? World's End Tavern isn't far from here, and I have no duties till this afternoon. The stable master, there," he pointed to a sturdy human standing in a stall next to the inn, "will take your mount to the city's central stables. He will also care for your pet, should you wish to part with him…." He said this last as he watched the wolf try to roll in something he found on the ground.

Thara followed his gaze and laughed. "I usually keep Sitka with me, as long as he's well behaved. But yes, I will meet you at the tavern. I shouldn't be more than an hour. Thank you, Vindicator."

Jastian nodded and handed her the reins. Before he could stop himself, he added, "Please, miss, call me Jastian." He covered his surprise at himself with an affectionate slap on the horse's neck, then turned and headed through the crowd toward the tavern.

Given the choice, there were certainly more…savory places in the city he could have invited her to than World's End Tavern. But it was close by and hard to miss. _Besides_, he told himself, _she is obviously a woman of the world. Multiple worlds, even_. Considering she had come through the portal and survived Hellfire Peninsula, he doubted there would be much in a bar that would phase her.

He reached the tavern quickly and entered without hesitation. The interior was dark, especially after the bright morning sun outside, but it was early and the place wasn't crowded. He exchanged a nod with the bartender and peered around to choose a spot to sit where she would be able to find him. In a back corner, he saw two familiar figures at a table having a low conversation. He grinned and made his way over to them.

One of them, a draenei, caught sight of Jastian approaching. He grinned and stood up. His companion, a blood elf, merely turned around in his chair and regarded Jastian through bored eyes.

Jastian gripped the draenei's outstretched hand warmly. "Jadaar, it is a pleasure to run into you this morning! And Investigator Asric, I hope you are well." The blood elf didn't extend his hand, but nodded at Jastian. "Please don't allow me to interrupt you two if you are discussing work—"

Jadaar laughed, but it was strained. "Well we were, but I'm afraid there's nothing to interrupt. Please, have a seat…." Jadaar indicated the seat he had just vacated and moved to pull up another chair for himself. Asric sighed and scooted his seat into a better position to make room for the two larger men.

"I don't understand," Jastian continued as he sat down. "The last I talked with you, you were deeply involved with that troll and the allegations of fraud. Is the case closed?"

"In a way…." Jadaar grumbled. "We investigated him thoroughly for a couple weeks. He complained so much we even got permission to remove him from the city, albeit temporarily. We didn't find much, but we were just getting ready to make our final report when the majority of the evidence was…misplaced."

Jadaar stared at Asric as he said this. The blood elf stared right back, expressionless, and calmly took a sip of his drink.

Jadaar sighed and continued. "Anyway, both of our bosses don't want us wasting any more time on it, so we're turning in what we have and moving on."

At this, the blood elf finally spoke up. "To better things, mind you, issues more important than some flea-bitten con man and his idiotic wares. Anyone stupid enough to buy them deserved to be robbed, in my opinion."

Jastian frowned at the investigator. The elf's attitude wasn't unexpected, considering his past experiences with the race, but it still angered him to see a city official show such distain for the people he was supposed to look out for.

Asric caught his expression. "Look, Vindicator…." He put his glass down on the table and leaned toward Jastian. He dropped his arrogant demeanor for a moment and spoke low and seriously."I know what you're thinking, but that Griftah character is really a waste of our time. See, in investigating him," he glanced briefly around the nearly empty bar, "we found something else."

Jastian raised an eyebrow. "What, illegally imported goblin knock-off hula dolls?"

"Hardly," Asric sneered. "You know the man. Besides those 'amulets' of his, he'll sell anything that falls off the back of a clefthoof. Well we found some things…unusual in nature, and of unknown origin."

Asric moved to take another sip of his drink. Confused, Jastian turned to Jadaar, who nodded grimly. "It's true, I'm afraid. We reported those items to our superiors immediately, and fortunately they weren't lost with the rest of the evidence."

There was silence at the table for a couple of moments. Jastian looked back and forth between the two men. "Well? What did you find?" he finally blurted out.

Asric grinned in self-satisfaction. "I'm afraid _that_ information is classified, my blue-blood friend."

"Oh, right, like that stops _you_ from telling anyone and everyone who will listen up on the Scryor's Tier," Jadaar grumbled. "But yes, our superiors want to investigate quietly what these things might represent. It could be they were dug up from some local ruin, or imported from some obscure corner of Azeroth. But if they belong to some unknown group here in Terokkar, or even in the city itself, and that group represents some sort of new enemy, we want to know as much about them as possible before rumors start to spread." He glared at Asric, and added, "Further."

Jastian nodded understandingly, but inside his blood ran cold. While the city—HIS city—was far from safe, he lived with the belief that their enemies were known and declared and relatively understood. To think of something new, something subtle and insidious, working its way into the city under the watchful eyes of him and the rest of the Sha'tar peacekeeping force sickened him. He sent a quick mental plea to the Light that if there truly was something new threatening the people of the city, he would not be powerless against it.

Jadaar seemed to read these thoughts through his expression, for he reached forward to grip Jastian's arm. "I know, but this could just as well be nothing. Priestess Ishanah said she would speak to the Sha'tar leaders herself. I'm sure if they decide something needs to be done you'll be first on their list. But now," he laughed, "no more talk of business and secret conspiracies. What can I order for you? You must be starving after morning drills." He laughed again and clapped Jastian on the shoulder. Jastian was reminded of the Archmage doing the very same thing earlier that morning, and then he remembered Thara.

"Oh, no, thank you, but I'll have to pass. Someone is meeting me here in…" he glanced up at a bulky Gnomish clock mounted high on the wall, above the high tide line of most bar-fights, "…a little less than an hour, so I should wait until—"

"Would that someone be some scruffy adventure-rat just run away from Darnassus?" Asric sneered over the lip of his drink. When the other two men looked at him in confusion, he jerked his chin toward the door.

Jastian turned around. Framed in the bright entrance to the bar was a bulky silhouette accompanied by a shorter, bulkier, four-legged one. As his eyes adjusted to the glare, he saw Thara standing there, peering into the gloom. The bulk came from two packs slung over her shoulders, and a pair of saddle bags hung around her neck. Her wolf had also apparently obliged to carry a pair of saddle bags draped across his back.

Jastian raised his hand and half stood from his chair. She saw him, and a look of relief passed over her face and she headed toward their table. Jastian frowned. _What in Outlands has happened to actually make her happy to see _me?

As she approached he stood up all the way. "Huntress Thara, what…why do you have all your bags? And why are you here so soon?"

With a relieved sigh, she unslung her shoulder packs and dropped them to the floor. "There's no room at the inn."

Investigator Asric laughed, and the other three turned to look at him. "Why is that funny?" Thara glared at him.

His laughing trailed off, and he paused thoughtfully. "I…I'm not sure, but it is, for some reason…." He frowned in confusion.

Thara stared at him blankly for a moment, then turned back to Jastian and continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. "Every bed and room is taken, and the innkeeper said she doesn't expect any space to open within the next week. She even sent some runners to the other inns, and they don't have any space either."

"Surely, the Aldor Inn, or even the Scryor…."

"No, she said they're full as well. I was able to get my horse into the stables, luckily…." She paused to take off the saddle bags around her neck. "But I didn't want to leave my bags there, of course. I hope you don't mind me dragging them with me…." She looked around the bar. More patrons had appeared over the course of the morning, and it was easily apparent that her extra luggage would be the last odd thing to attract attention in the room.

"Not at all, please sit! Huntress, this is Peacekeeper Jadaar," Jastian smiled to see her shake Jadaar's hand without hesistation, "and Investigator Asric, of the Scryors." Jastian glared at him over the top of Thara's head. Asric sighed, then leaned forward to extend his hand for a weak shake.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Huntress, but I'm afraid the Investigator and I need to settle our tab and get back to work." Jadaar stood up, and glanced significantly at Asric, who rolled his eyes and followed suit. "Some other time, I would love to hear of your travels."

"Thank you, I shall," Thara replied as she sank with relief into one of the vacated chairs. Jastian exchanged a handshake and a few more words with Jadaar then joined her. The wolf—Sitka, he remembered—saddle bags still tied to his back, curled up at Thara's feet under the table. Jastian considered giving the wolf a friendly scratch on the head, but remembered that he was a hunting companion, no ordinary pet, despite his curious and playful attitude. He decided he'd better to get to know the animal a bit more first.

He looked up at Thara and saw her watching Investigator Asric paying his tab at the front counter, frowning. When he and Jadaar left the bar, she turned back to Jastian. Seeing his confused look, she blushed and laughed.

"I'm sorry, it's just…I rarely ran into our cousins back…back on Azeroth, and I've heard such stories about their involvement here, so to see so many wandering the city is quite a surprise."

_It's not just you who's surprised…, _a darker part of him retorted, but he brushed it away and smiled. "No, I can certainly understand. Please, before we discuss anything else lets order." He waved to a waitress leaning against the bar, bored. "Anything you'd like, my treat."

She looked startled, then blushed. "Oh, no I couldn't, you're already promising to show me around the city—"

"Not at all, not at all. You and your wolf are starving I'm sure, and I feel guilty for giving you bad advice on the inn."

She opened her mouth to protest more, but then sighed and smiled. "Alright, I accept. But because of Sitka, not for me."


End file.
